her beauty." Indeed, my dear Mr.Thornhill," cried she to the Squire, who she supposed was come here to succour, and not to oppress us, I take it a little unkindly that you should come here without me, or never inform me of the situation of a family so dear to us both : you know I should take as much pleasure in contributing to the relief of my reverend old master here, whom I shall ever esteem, as you can. But I find that, like your uncle, you take a pleasure in doing good in secret.

"He find pleasure in doing good!" cried Sir William, interrupting her. "No, my dear, his pleasures are as base as he is. You see in him, madam, as complete a villain as ever disgraced humanity. A wretch, who, after having deluded this poor man's daughter, after plotting against the innocence of her sister, has thrown the father into prison, and the eldest son into fetters because he had the courage to face her betrayer. And give me leave, madam, now to congratulate you upon an escape from the embraces of such a monster.'

"O goodness!" cried the lovely girl, "how have I been deceived! Mr. Thornhill informed me for certain that this gentleman's eldest son, Captain Primrose, was gone off to America with his new-married lady."

My sweetest Miss," cried my wife, "he has told you nothing but falsehoods. My son George never left the kingdom, nor ever was married. Though you have forsaken him, he has always loved you too well to think of anybody else; and I have heard him say, he would die a bachelor for your sake. She then proceeded to expatiate upon the sincerity of her son's passion: she set his duel with Mr. Thornhill in a proper light; from thence she made a rapid digression to the Squire's debaucheries, his pretended marriages, and ended with a most insulting picture of his cowardice.

"Good heavens!" cried Miss Wilmot, "how very near have I been to the brink of ruin! Ten thousand falsehoods has this gentleman told me! He had at last art enough to persuade me, that my promise to the only man I esteemed was no longer binding, since he had been unfaithful. By his falsehoods I was taught to detest one equally brave and generous."

H

But by this time my son was freed f the encumbrances of justice, as the per supposed to be wounded was detecte be an impostor. Mr. Jenkinson, also, had acted as his valet-de-chambre, dressed up his hair, and furnished him v whatever was necessary to make a gen appearance. He now therefore ente handsomely dressed in his regimenta and, without vanity (for I am above he appeared as handsome a fellow as e wore a military dress. As he entered, made Miss Wilmot a modest and dist. bow, for he was not as yet acquainted w the change which the eloquence of mother had wrought in his favour. But decorums could restrain the impatience his blushing mistress to be forgiveh. tears, her looks, all contributed to discov the real sensations of her heart, for havi forgotten her former promise, and havi suffered herself to be deluded by an impo My son appeared amazed at h condescension, and could scarce believe real. "Sure, madam," cried he, "this but delusion! I can never have merit this! To be blessed thus is to be to happy."-" No, sir," replied she; "I hav been deceived, basely deceived, else n thing could have ever made me unjust 1 my promise. You know my friendshipyou have long known it--but forget what have done, and as you once had my warn est vows of constancy, you shall now hay them repeated; and be assured, that if you Arabella cannot be yours, she shall new be another's."-" And no other's you sha be," cried Sir William, "if I have any fluence with your father."

tor.

This hint was sufficient for my son Mose who immediately flew to the inn where th old gentleman was, to inform him of ever circumstance that had happened. But, the meantime, the Squire, perceiving thi he was on every side undone, now findin that no hopes were left from flattery or di simulation, concluded that his wisest wa would be to turn and face his pursuer Thus, laying aside all shame, he appeare the open, hardy villain. "I find, then, cried he, "that I am to expect no justi here; but I am resolved it shall be don me. You shall know, sir," turning to S William, "I am no longer a poor deper

nt upon your favours. I scorn them. othing can keep Miss Wilmot's fortune om me, which, I thank her father's assiity, is pretty large. The articles and a nd for her fortune are signed, and safe my possession. It was her fortune, not er person, that induced me to wish for ais match; and, possessed of the one, let ho will take the other."

This was an alarming blow. Sir William vas sensible of the justice of his claims, for he had been instrumental in drawing up the marriage articles himself. Miss Wilmot, therefore, perceiving that her fortune was imetrievably lost, turning to my son, asked if the loss of fortune could lessen her

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value to him? Though fortune," said she, "is out of my power, at least I have my hand to give.'

And that, madam," cried her real lover, “was indeed all that you ever had to give; at least all that I ever thought worth the acceptance. And I now protest, my Arabel, by all that's happy, your want of far une this moment increases my pleasure, at serves to convince my sweet girl of ny sincerity."

Mr. Wilmot now entering, he seemed not artle pleased at the danger his daughter hajast escaped, and readily consented to 4 dissolution of the match. But finding that her fortune, which was secured to Mr. Terhill by bond, would not be given up, ung could exceed his disappointment. He now saw that his money must all go to enrich one who had no fortune of his own. He could bear his being a rascal, but to want an equivalent to his daughter's fortune 25 wormwood. He sat, therefore, for some minutes employed in the most mortifyspeculations, till Sir William attempted t lessen his anxiety. "I must confess, sir," cred he, "that your present disappointent does not entirely displease me. Your moderate passion for wealth is now justly Fished. But though the young lady cannot be rich, she has still a competence Sancient to give content. Here you see an honest young soldier, who is willing to take her without fortune: they have long loved each other; and, for the friendship bear his father, my interest shall not be Wanting in his promotion. Leave, then, that ambition which disappoints you, and

for once admit that happiness which courts your acceptance."

"Sir William," replied the old gentleman, "be assured I never yet forced her inclinations, nor will I now. If she still continues to love this young gentleman, let her have him, with all my heart. There is still, thank Heaven, some fortune left, and your promise will make it something more. Only let my old friend here" (meaning me)" give me a promise of settling six thousand pounds upon my girl if ever he should come to his fortune, and I am ready, this night, to be the first to join them together.'

As it now remained with me to make the young couple happy, I readily gave a promise of making the settlement he required; which, to one who had such little expectations as I, was no great favour. We had now, therefore, the satisfaction of seeing them fly into each other's arms in a transport. "After all my misfortunes," cried my son George, "to be thus rewarded! Sure this is more than I could ever have presumed to hope for. To be possessed of all that's good, and after such an interval of pain! My warmest wishes could never rise so high!"

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"Yes, my George," returned his lovely bride, now let the wretch take my fortune; since you are happy without it, so am I. Oh, what an exchange have I made,

from the basest of men to the dearest, best! Let him enjoy our fortune, I can now be happy even in indigence."-" And I promise you," cried the Squire, with a malicious grin, " that I shall be very happy with what you despise."-" Hold, hold, sir," cried Jenkinson, "there are two words to that bargain. As for that lady's fortune, sir, you shall never touch a single stiver of it. Pray, your honour," continued he to Sir William, "can the Squire have this lady's fortune if he be married to another?"

How can you make such a simple demand?" replied the Baronet: undoubtedly he cannot."- “I am sorry for that," cried Jenkinson; "for as this gentleman and I have been old fellow-sporters, I have a friendship for him. But I must declare, well as I love him, that this contract is not worth a tobacco-stopper, for he is married already."—“You lie, like a rascal!” re

levity, scandal called by a harsher name, and it was reported I had debauched her. I waited on her father in person, willing to clear the thing to his satisfaction, and he received me only with insult and abuse. As for the rest, with regard to his being here, my attorney and steward can best inform you, as I commit the management of business entirely to them. If he has contracted debts, and is unwilling, or even unable to pay them, it is their business to proceed in this manner and I see no hardship or injustice in pursuing the most legal means of redress."

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If this," cried Sir William "be as you have stated it, there is nothing unpardonable in your offence; and though your conduct might have been more generous in not suffering this gentleman to be oppressed by subordinate tyranny, yet it has been at least equitable.'

"He cannot contradict a single particular," replied the Squire; "I defy him to do so; and several of my servants are ready to attest what I say. Thus, sir," continued he, finding that I was silent, for in fact I could not contradict him-"thus, sir, my own innocence is vindicated: but though at your entreaty I am ready to forgive this gentleman every other offence, yet his attempts to lessen me in your esteem excite a resentment that I cannot govern; and this, too, at a time when his son was actually preparing to take away my life, this, I say, was such guilt, that I am determined to let the law take its course. I have here the challenge that was sent me, and two witnesses to prove it one of my servants has been wounded dangerously; and even though my uncle himself should dissuade me, which I know he will not, yet I will see public justice done, and he shall suffer for it."

:

But the appearance of Jenkinson and tis gaoler's two servants now called off our 2 tention, who entered, hauling in a tall mat very genteelly dressed, and answering th description already given of the ruffian wh had carried off my daughter. "Here, cried Jenkinson, pulling him in, “here w have him; and if ever there was a candi date for Tyburn, this is one."

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The moment Mr. Thornhill perceive the prisoner, and Jenkinson who had hin in custody, he seemed to shrink back wit terror. His face became pale with con scious guilt, and he would have withdrawn but Jenkinson, who perceived his design stopped him. What, Squire," cried he are you ashamed of your two old ac quaintances, Jenkinson and Baxter? Bu this is the way that all great men forge their friends, though I am resolved w will not forget you. Our prisoner, please your honour," continued he, turning to Si William, "has already confessed all. Thi is the gentleman reported to be so danger ously wounded. Ile declares that it was Mr. Thornhill who first put him upon this affair; that he gave him the clothes he now wears, to appear like a gentleman. and furnished him with the post-chaise. The plan was laid between them, that he should carry off the young lady to a place of safety, and that there he should threaten and terrify her; but Mr. Thornhill was to come in, in the meantime, as if by accident, to her rescue; and that they should fight a while, and then he was to run off,by which Mr. Thornhill would have the better opportunity of gaining her affections himself, under the character of her defender."

Sir William remembered the coat to have been worn by his nephew, and all the rest the prisoner himself confirmed by a more circumstantial account; concluding, that Mr. Thornhill had often declared to him that he was in love with both sisters at the same time.

"Heavens!" cried Sir William, “what a viper have I been fostering in my bosom' And so fond of public justice, too, as he seemed to be! But he shall have it: secure him, Mr. Gaoler-Yet, hold! I fear there is not legal evidence to detain him."

Upon this Mr. Thornhill, with the

most humility, entreated that two such xandoned wretches might not be admitd as evidences against him, but that his vants should be examined. "Your serants" replied Sir William. "Wretch all them yours no longer: but come, let s bear what those fellows have to say; let is butler be called."

When the butler was introduced, he con perceived by his former master's ooks that all his power was now over. *Tell me," cried Sir William, sternly, **have you ever seen your master, and that fellow dressed up in his clothes, in company together?"-"Yes, please your bonoar, cried the butler, 'a thousand times: he was the man that always brought| him his ladies."—"How!" interrupted young Mr. Thornhill, "this to my face?" Ye" replied the butler, "or to any n's face. To tell you a truth, Master Thornhill, I never either loved you or liked y and I don't care if I tell you now a Pece of my mind."-"Now, then," cried Jakinson, "tell his honour whether you low anything of me.". -"I can't say," reled the butler, "that I know much good of you. The night that gentleman's dughter was deluded to our house, you were one of them."-" So then," cried Sir William, “I find you have brought a very fe witness to prove your innocence: thou an to humanity! to associate with such etches! But," continuing his examinata, "you tell me, Mr. Butler, that this was the person who brought him this old tleman's daughter."- No, please your honour," replied the butler, "he did not brng her, for the Squire himself undertook that business; but he brought the priest that pretended to marry them."

It is but too true," cried Jenkinson; "I cacaot deny it; that was the employment signed me, and I confess it to my confu

"Good heavens!" exclaimed the Barotet, "how every new discovery of his vilany alarms me! All his guilt is now too plan, and I find his prosecution was dictated by tyranny, cowardice, and revenge. At my request, Mr. Gaoler, set this young lofacer, now your prisoner, free, and trust (to me for the consequences. I'll make it my business to set the affair in a proper

light to my friend the magistrate, who has committed him. But where is the unfortunate young lady herself? Let her appear to confront this wretch: I long to know by what arts he has seduced her. Entreat her to come in. Where is she?"

"Ah! sir," said I, "that question stings me to the heart: I was once indeed happy in a daughter, but her miseriesAnother interruption here prevented me; for who should make her appearance but Miss Arabella Wilmot, who was next day to have been married to Mr. Thornhill. Nothing could equal her surprise at seeing Sir William and his nephew here before her; for her arrival was quite accidental. It happened that she and the old gentleman, her father, were passing through the town, on the way to her aunt's, who had insisted that her nuptials with Mr. Thornhill should be consummated at her house; but stopping for refreshment, they put up at an inn at the other end of the town. It was there, from the window, that the young lady happened to observe one of my little boys playing in the street, and instantly sending a footman to bring the child to her, she learned from him some account of our misfortunes; but was still kept ignorant of young Mr. Thornhill's being the cause. Though her father made several remonstrances on the impropriety of going to a prison to visit us, yet they were ineffectual; she desired the child to conduct her, which he did, and it was thus she surprised us at a juncture so unexpected.

Nor can I go on without a reflection on those accidental meetings, which, though they happen every day, seldom excite our surprise but upon some extraordinary occasion. To what a fortuitous concurrence do we not owe every pleasure and convenience of our lives! How many seeming accidents must unite before we can be clothed or fed! The peasant must be disposed to labour, the shower must fall, the wind fill the merchant's sail, or numbers must want the usual supply.

We all continued silent for some moments, while my charming pupil, which was the name I generally gave this young lady, united in her looks compassion and astonishment, which gave new finishing to

her beauty." Indeed, my dear Mr.Thornhill," cried she to the Squire, who she supposed was come here to succour, and not to oppress us, "I take it a little unkindly that you should come here without me, or never inform me of the situation of a family so dear to us both : you know I should take as much pleasure in contributing to the relief of my reverend old master here, whom I shall ever esteem, as you can. But I find that, like your uncle, you take a pleasure in doing good in secret."

"He find pleasure in doing good!" cried Sir William, interrupting her. "No, my dear, his pleasures are as base as he is. You see in him, madam, as complete a villain as ever disgraced humanity. A wretch, who, after having deluded this poor man's daughter, after plotting against the innocence of her sister, has thrown the father into prison, and the eldest son into fetters because he had the courage to face her betrayer. And give me leave, madam, now to congratulate you upon an escape from the embraces of such a monster.'

"O goodness!" cried the lovely girl, "how have I been deceived! Mr. Thornhill informed me for certain that this gentleman's eldest son, Captain Primrose, was gone off to America with his new-married lady."

My sweetest Miss," cried my wife, "he has told you nothing but falsehoods. My son George never left the kingdom, nor ever was married. Though you have forsaken him, he has always loved you too well to think of anybody else; and I have heard him say, he would die a bachelor for your sake."

She then proceeded to expatiate upon the sincerity of her son's passion: she set his duel with Mr. Thornhill in a proper light; from thence she made a rapid digression to the Squire's debaucheries, his pretended marriages, and ended with a most insulting picture of his cowardice.

"Good heavens!” cried Miss Wilmot, "how very near have I been to the brink of ruin! Ten thousand falsehoods has this gentleman told me! He had at last art enough to persuade me, that my promise to the only man I esteemed was no longer binding, since he had been unfaithful.

By

his falsehoods I was taught to detest one equally brave and generous."

But by this time my son was freed fr the encumbrances of justice, as the per supposed to be wounded was detected be an impostor. Mr. Jenkinson, also, had acted as his valet-de-chambre, dressed up his hair, and furnished him w whatever was necessary to make a gent appearance. He now therefore ente handsomely dressed in his regimenta and, without vanity (for I am above he appeared as handsome a fellow as e wore a military dress. As he entered, made Miss Wilmot a modest and dist. bow, for he was not as yet acquainted w the change which the eloquence of mother had wrought in his favour. But decorums could restrain the impatience his blushing mistress to be forgiven. H tears, her looks, all contributed to disco the real sensations of her heart, for havi forgotten her former promise, and havi suffered herself to be deluded by an imp

tor.

My son appeared amazed at condescension, and could scarce believe real.-"Sure, madam," cried he, "this but delusion! I can never have merit this! To be blessed thus is to be t happy."-" No, sir," replied she; "I ha been deceived, basely deceived, else n thing could have ever made me unjust my promise. You know my friendship you have long known it--but forget what have done, and as you once had my warı est vows of constancy, you shall now ha them repeated; and be assured, that if yo Arabella cannot be yours, she shall nev be another's."- Andr dno other's you sh be," cried Sir William, "if I have any fluence with your father."

This hint was sufficient for my son Mos who immediately flew to the inn where old gentleman was, to inform him of eve circumstance that had happened. But, the meantime, the Squire, perceiving th he was on every side undone, now findi that no hopes were left from flattery or d simulation, concluded that his wisest w would be to turn and face his pursue Thus, laying aside all shame, he appear the open, hardy villain. "I find, the cried he, "that I am to expect no just here; but I am resolved it shall be de me. You shall know, sir," turning to William, "I am no longer a poor dept